


to be charming and smart and disarming

by ShippingEverything



Series: his royal highness prince calroy rocks [3]
Category: Dimension 20 (Web Series)
Genre: 5 Times, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Lies, M/M, Manipulation, Minor Character Death, Non-Graphic Violence, Non-Linear Narrative
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-13
Updated: 2020-07-13
Packaged: 2021-03-05 02:41:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,257
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25237117
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShippingEverything/pseuds/ShippingEverything
Summary: “How did you meet Uncle Amethar?” Jet asks as Calroy tucks her into bed, and Ruby perks up ever so slightly from across the room.The appeal for storytime is a delaying tactic that would’ve worked wonderfully on Amethar, might’ve even stopped Caramelinda if they caught her in an especially sentimental mood, but the girls have miscalculated; Calroy keeps moving forward so he never has to think about days gone by.or: four lies calroy purposefully told (and one time he told the truth by accident)
Relationships: Calroy Cruller/Amethar Rocks
Series: his royal highness prince calroy rocks [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1798678
Comments: 8
Kudos: 61





	to be charming and smart and disarming

**Author's Note:**

> me, deciding what parts of medieval europe that i want to include in my version of candia: this is the best possible use for my history degree, actually
> 
> back at it again. this fic features: fratricide, mentions of poisoning, mentions of General Murder, and calroy-typical manipulation. the opening scenes of each vignette (aka, the lie calroy tells) are in reverse chronological order, but the vignettes themselves exist in Wibbly Wobbly Time Space because... I don't have a firm timeline for this fic. also i tried to be as complete as possible with lore without it like. being too dense and boring. but we really do have a lot of hcs abt calroy's childhood, home life, young adulthood, etc that would require Their Own Fics to fully unravel and i simply don't have the time. anyway, please please please enjoy!
> 
> title from rob cantor's _i'm gonna win_

**_one._ **

Liam Wilhelmina is a slight boy, all of his mother's sweetness and none of his father's strength, and he flinches when Calroy asks him if he’s enjoying Castle Candy.

“It’s nice,” He says, then, quick like he’s afraid he’ll get in trouble, “Not that I don’t miss my family! I love the Mountains, I love my mom, it’s just… my brothers…” He sighs and trails off. Calroy puts a hand on his shoulder and keeps his posture open, warm and supportive and very interested in what Liam might say about his brothers, if it’ll match the rumors of unrest that Calroy’s heard. Regretfully, Liam just turns his over-wide eyes up at Calroy and asks, “Do you have siblings?”

“I did, once. Seven big brothers,” Calroy offers, holding back a satisfied smirk when Liam perks up; few things are immediately bonding as being the youngest, and Calroy’s sure that he’s won Liam over. “But, you know, a lot of things changed during the War.”

~~

Loose ends need to be cut, and there is no looser end for Calroy than his family. Not that there’s much to clean up: his father and second brother died of sickness when Calroy was still young, the War took four more of them, and his mother disappeared shortly before Calroy joined the War effort himself, when stories of Ceresia closing in began to drift to their town. He’s always imagined that she, widowed and miserable, went back to beg shelter with her Ceresian family, but Calroy doesn’t particularly care what happened to her as long as she stays away from him. Which, of course, leads him to his current issue.

“Aren’t you going to even _pretend_ to be happy to see your favorite brother?” Delroy asks, grinning like he didn’t show up unannounced after three years of radio silence. Luckily, Calroy was able to keep him away from Amethar and convince him to go back to his inn rather than speak in the Castle, but it’s still a headache. They sit in a darkened corner of the inn’s tavern and Calroy tries to ignore the stickiness of his seat and the smell of wet fur and stale cola that permeates the room.

“What do you _want_.” Calroy says, voice flat. It’s not a question, because he knows what his brother wants, what _anyone_ raised with the values of his mother would want from their newly royal sibling. He just wants to make Delroy say it out loud.

Delroy leans back and takes a long pull from his drink, eyes darting around Calroy’s clothes, lavish even when he’s actively dressing down. Delroy, on the other hand, looks much the same as he did when they were younger -- meticulously patched clothes in cheap fabrics, hair dull and unruly, thick scar from a harvesting accident slicing the line of his jaw and immobilizing the left corner of his mouth.

“What do you think I want? My baby brother’s the Prince of Candia, aren’t I allowed to come calling for a little royal assistance?”

“And what do you mean by that?” Calroy asks instead of leaving, even though he hates the look in Delroy’s eyes; it’s all entitlement and surety like he thinks this is acceptable and that Calroy owes him something just because he’s sixteen minutes older than Calroy.

“A title, ideally,” Delroy says. Mead sloshes out of his flagon when he slams it back on the table, looking at Calroy with twinkling eyes. “Or, you know, we _are_ nearly identical. I bet if I cut my hair and got all dolled up like you, your loverboy wouldn’t even know the- _urk_.”

Calroy’s dagger is out and between Delroy’s ribs before Calroy even realizes he’s moving, and Calroy’s mouth falls open with shock at the same time that Delroy’s does. Delroy’s wide eyes start to go unfocused but he keeps them on Calroy’s as his mouth twitches back into that infuriating smile.

“Yeah, should’ve known that was a shade too far,” He says weakly, lips flecked with blood, “You always were the most like mom.”

Calroy’s face falls into a scowl at the comparison. He lifts a hand to cover Delroy’s mouth before twisting the blade and pulling it out. He feels his brother’s breaths slow and eventually stop against his palm, and then he wipes his dagger on Delroy’s shirt, and leans back. He picks up Delroy’s drink.

He can spare the time for a calming drink because from anywhere else in the room it will just look like Delroy’s passed out drunk. And, even if it didn’t, who’d accuse the _Prince of Candia_ of murdering his kin?

* * *

**_two._ **

“How did you meet Uncle Amethar?” Jet asks as Calroy tucks her into bed. Ruby perks up ever so slightly from across the room.

The appeal for storytime is a delaying tactic that would’ve worked wonderfully on Amethar, might’ve even stopped Caramelinda if they caught her in an especially sentimental mood, but the girls have miscalculated; Calroy keeps moving forward so he never has to think about days gone by.

“Your uncle saved my life during the war,” Calroy says. He pushes Jet’s eager little head down onto her pillow and presses a kiss to her hairline, ignoring her complaints and doing the same to Ruby as he crosses the room. “ _Maybe_ , if you're both good little princesses who don’t try to sneak into the armory tonight, I’ll tell you the story tomorrow.”

~~

There are many differences between selling weapons to Ceresia and leading Ceresian troops into Candian territory, but the main one for Calroy is that he signed up for one of those things, and most _emphatically_ did not for the other. And yet, here he is, leading five soldiers towards the Candian camp. The soldiers are the worst kind, tall and broad-shouldered, looking down their noses at Calroy even though they need him, and they keep _talking_. They’re not particularly loud but in the dead of night and the middle of a war, any unnecessary noise is too much.

“We’re getting close, you should quiet down,” Calroy says, and the leader of the group snorts.

“No offense, sweetheart, but we know how to run an ambush.”

 _Then why did you make me lead you in here_ , Calroy doesn’t say. He just grips the dagger in his fist a little tighter, imagines the way it’d feel to remove the man’s tongue from his mouth, and reminds himself what the offered payout for this mission is. They get within twenty feet of the camp when Calroy hears the sound of sure, steady footsteps heading towards them. He tries to gesture for the soldiers to stop but they ignore him and walk directly into the path of _Prince Amethar Rocks_.

 _Fuck_ , Calroy thinks just as Prince Amethar says, “What the hell?”

It’s a lucky break for Prince Amethar, Calroy thinks as he tries to figure out an action plan -- wherever he had been coming from, his sword was already in hand, while Calroy’s companions were cocky enough to not even be on alert. It’s barely accurate to call it a _fight_ with how thoroughly Prince Amethar destroys the Ceresians. When Prince Amethar is done and the bodies lay on the ground, he turns towards Calroy. Calroy stealthily drops his dagger and steps out of the shadows, endeavoring to look as harmless as possible.

“Hey, you’re one of ours, right?” Prince Amethar asks, lowering his sword like being on the same side has ever protected anyone.

“Yes, Your Highness,” Calroy says, hoping that the prince won’t follow _foreign soldiers in my camp_ and _Candian I’ve never met before_ to the correct conclusions.

Prince Amethar’s brow furrows and he looks Calroy up and down. He frowns. “You shouldn’t go out without your sword. You could’ve been in real trouble with those guys if I hadn’t come along!”

Calroy’s face slackens in disbelief, just for a second, before he fixes it into something appropriately appreciative. “You’re absolutely right, Your Highness, you’ve saved my life today.”

“Ha, guess I did,” Prince Amethar grins disarmingly. Calroy is caught off guard for the third time that night. “Anyway, enough of the ‘your highness’ stuff, alright? Just call me Amethar.”

“I- okay, Amethar,” Calroy says, enjoying the way the word rolls off his tongue, how _Prince Amethar Rocks’_ foolish trust tastes in his mouth. “But only if you’ll call me Calroy.”

* * *

**_three._ **

“My job is to guard the king.” Theobald Gumbar says even as he obediently follows Calroy, tone professional and steady like he spent hours in front of the mirror practicing it. It’s admirable, Calroy thinks, that Sir Theobald is still trying his stoic, stuck-up best to be respectful despite his obvious dislike of Calroy.

“Your job is to be Lord Commander of the Tartguard, which means that the protection of Castle Candy and everyone in Candia rests in your hands,” He pauses, lets that really sink in. Sir Theobald values nothing more than honor and responsibility, even when those duties require him to take orders from Calroy. “I applaud your dedication to the King but I assure you, Sir Theobald, that all that I do is for the preservation of House Rocks.”

~~

Calroy prefers assassinations to ambushes, doesn’t like the mess or the dramatics of brute force attacks, which is why he only brings Sir Theobald along when he needs to _seem_ dangerous; Calroy is more lethal on his own then his husband’s teddy bear of a favorite knight could ever be, but every minor lord in Calorum doesn’t need to know that. He has his own personal Tartguardsman, of course, but Sir Quincy doesn’t cut as imposing a figure as Theobald, and Calroy needs imposing when he visits House Whipperly.

Lady Valencia Whipperly is a fierce figure, with a swirl of white hair and the kind of posture that's bred into old Candian nobility, stubborn and proud, and the only thing blocking the ratification of Calroy’s trade proposal with Fructera. To Lady Whipperly’s credit, the trade proposal isn’t great for Candia; the tariffs are too great for it’s few benefits but it will mean that at least three Fructeran nobles will owe Calroy a personal debt, and Calroy cares more about collecting favors than he does about Candian merchants, as does most of the Candian Court. Calroy doesn’t understand why Lady Whipperly won’t get with the program, but that’s why he’s come to visit Lady Whipperly’s less impressive, more easily swayed partner -- Ruthie Nougallo. She welcomes them with grace but Calroy can see her hands tremble as she politely curtseys to him.

“My apologizes, Your Highness, but my wife won’t be back for quite a few days,” Ruthie says as she leads Theobald and Calroy to her parlor. Calroy waves a hand dismissively and grins, just sharp enough to be scary.

“You misunderstand, I’ve come to speak to _you_ ,” Calroy says as he sits on one of the room’s couches. Ruthie’s legs begin to shake as well. “You see, I think we could help each other.”

“Help each other?”

“Mhm. Sir Theobald, the door if you’d please?” The look Theobald sends Calroy could freeze lava cake, but he goes nonetheless, far enough away that he won’t be able to truly hear Calroy with the bonus of blocking the room’s only exit with his size. Ruthie settles down next to Calroy when he pats the couch but she's nervously shooting looks at Theobald the whole time. Calroy grins. “Now, I understand that you alone can sway that lovely wife of yours. She’s a bit stubborn, hm?”

“Oh! I wouldn’t-”

“Don’t be silly, dear, I didn’t mean it as a bad thing,” Calroy says, patronizing enough that Ruthie flinches, “Let me tell you a secret: my husband is a bit stubborn too.”

Ruthie’s eyes widen but she smiles, just a bit. _Hook_. “Is he?”

“ _Yes_. Sometimes, even if he knows that something will be good for us, he refuses it just because he doesn’t want to change his original opinion. I’m sure you know how _that_ is.”

“Oh, absolutely! Last month, a Fructeran noble sent us some wonderful looking wine but Valencia refused it because she thought it was a _bribe_ ,” Ruthie says, leaning in conspiratorially. _Line_.

“What a shame! You know, good wine is so difficult to get these days. It would be easier if I could get approval on a trade deal with Fructera, but,” Calroy sighs deeply, almost too dramatic for his tastes but Ruthie eats it right up. “Your Valencia isn’t a fan of it. It’s really a tragedy, just imagine all the delicacies we could get shipped in if we had a true trade deal with Fructera. Why, House Rocks could have wine and fruitcake at every session of Court!”

“Every session of court…” Ruthie licks her lips almost absentmindedly and her smile grows. _Sinker_. “I’ll talk to Valencia. I’m sure I can bring her around on this.”

Calroy claps once, lets his true sense of accomplishment show in his smile. “Wonderful! I just _knew_ you would be reasonable, Ruthie.”

* * *

**_four._ **

“You almost had me that time,” Amethar says as he offers Calroy a hand up. The training yard is deserted except for the two of them, no one else wanting to brave the stifling heat of the midday sun for something as exhausting as sparring. Amethar, of course, flourishes in situations like this, unflustered and delighted even with sweat dripping down his sharp jaw. “Where’d you learn to fight like that anyway?”

Calroy uses wiping his sweat as an excuse to hide the annoyed twist of his brow. Trust his King to not leave well enough alone. “Oh, you know, here and there. Mostly the war.”

~~

Calroy's days in Muffinfield Manor go like this: he wakes up, he runs through sword forms with Lord Cruller before dawn, he helps Lady Cruller plan events or takes notes in meetings for the majority of the day, then eats a meager dinner alone in his room and goes to bed. When House Cruller put out a notice looking for a page, Calroy jumped at the opportunity: anything, truly anything, would be better than another season sweating through his clothes as he worked his family’s fields. Here, he has his own room, his own space, and the affection of the Crullers, who desperately needed an outlet for their parental instincts after their daughter and only heir ran away months ago.

It’s all worked out exceptionally well for Calroy, especially when it comes to his swordsmanship training.

“Your stance is too stiff,” Lord Cruller says, rapping his sword against Calroy’s locked knee. Calroy obediently bends, tries to recall and perfectly mimic the flowing movements that Lord Cruller has shown him. The man’s sigh tells him that he’s failed. “I can hear you thinking, boy. You’re too stuck in your head. Don’t get too worried about the next move to start on this one.”

“Sorry, Lord Cruller,” Calroy says, rote. Lord Cruller sighs again.

“You're too defensive. Someone with the brawn to back it up can stay still and let their opponent wear themselves out, but a little thing like you? The best defense is a good offense. You have to _move_ , kid,” Lord Cruller punctuates his words with a firm pat to the center of Calroy’s back. Calroy to stumble forward from the force and scowls as Lord Cruller laughs. Lord Cruller puts a hand to his shoulder, gently, and looks seriously into Calroy's eyes. “Strike faster than they can strike you. In this world, it’s either eat or be eaten.”

“Yes, Lord Cruller, thank you, Lord Cruller,” Calroy dutifully replies, and he holds the advice close to his chest as he tips an almost unnoticeable portion of the poison his mother sent into Lord Cruller’s goblet that evening. Strike first, strike fast, and no one else can hurt you.

* * *

**_truth._ **

_Far-flung countryman,_

_I have received news of your upcoming nuptials. I know I have encouraged you to lean into his affection in the past, and even now I think of how easily all of this can be woven into our plans, but I can't help but wonder how quickly affairs of the heart can sour. Have you any worry that things could become messy for you?_

_Worry is the furthest thing from my mind, as I have apt reason to believe that he is firmly devoted to me. Yesterday morning, he called me the “guiding light of his life” simply because I recalled a name for him. It’s almost too easy at this point._

_And what of you, friend? Have you become similarly attached to our dear Stone?_

~~

Calroy huffs a quiet laugh as he reads Senator Ciabatta’s most recent note in the halls of Castle Candy, delivered to him moments ago by a particularly harried and nervous-looking messenger. Calroy should _technically_ be in his bedroom right now -- a lovely advisor’s suite near the guests’ wing, almost halfway across the castle -- but he welcomed today’s dawn from inside the King’s chambers and he can only imagine how many places the poor boy checked before deciding to risk insulting the King, the honor of the King’s intended, and possibly the entirety of the Court.

Not, Calroy muses as he returns to Amethar’s bedroom, that Calroy’s honor _needs_ any protection; besides that fact that he’s no blushing maiden, Amethar invited Calroy back to his room for simple _cuddling_. Even when Calroy tried to initiate more, Amethar had simply turned heated kisses into slow and soft things that made Calroy’s stomach turn with their sweetness, yawned and took Calroy’s hand in his own when Calroy began to slide it down Amethar’s chest, wrapped his heavy arm around Calroy’s waist only to pull him close enough that Calroy could hear the steady beat of Amethar’s heart and feel the rumble of his every snore. Even now, a shiver runs down Calroy’s spine at the memory, mouth twisting with- well, with annoyance, mostly, and confusion. Who invites their intended to their rooms and then refuses to sleep with him? Amethar Rocks was truly, bafflingly ridiculous, even if his fondness for Calroy was extraordinarily useful. It’s with that in mind that he stops at Amethar’s desk to pen a quick response to Ciabatta.

 _My dear ally, have you not heard? I am the Stone’s dearest friend, and he is the love of my life. It’s all people can talk of these days. I thank you for your concern but I assure you, I will be fine_, Calroy writes, underlining with a flourish. He hopes Ciabatta will get a laugh from the glimpse of how the Candian Court sees Calroy, as Calroy does every time he hears someone whispering about the _romance_ of him and Amethar. He folds the letter for later just as Amethar groans from the bed.

“Cal?” He calls, voice sleep-rough and eyes only half-open. Calroy crosses the room in easy steps and settles himself on the edge of the bed, allowing Amethar to lay his head across Calroy’s lap. “Where’d you go?”

Calroy slants a hand over Amethar’s eyes to protect them from the weak sunlight spilling into the room and Amethar hums in appreciation. Something in Calroy’s chest tightens, like a gourdian knot that he can't begin to consider untying. “There was a letter to receive.”

“Court stuff?” Amethar asks, tone not quite whining but close enough that Calroy’s eye almost twitches. He hums noncommittally and pretends to listen as Amethar complains about how early in the morning he is expected to begin working.

A little lie, after all, never hurt anyone.

**Author's Note:**

> a note for each vignette: 
> 
> \- calroy has (had) two brothers that survived past the war and to adulthood, delroy and killroy! thats a miserable statistic for a group of octuplets but listen, calroy's mom was awful and also there was a war on. also, yes, d20soc has decided that all the calroy brothers have -roy names (leroy, viceroy, gildroy, delroy, fitzroy, conroy, killroy, calroy) and i Pointedly did not use it in this fic but we also decided that calroy's birth last name was curph and... i have so many mixed feelings about it
> 
> \- calling a candian "sweetheart" is probably some kind of microaggression, especially if that candian is half-ceresian, as i've decided that calroy is, because you're essentially saying "you're not one of us and you never could be." anyway, yes i've created fantasy racism and no i will not be taking questions at this time _(i cannot stress enough that this is a joke and i'm black please don't cancel me for this)_
> 
> \- calroy, as husband of the king, is a little bit theo's boss (especially because even if he _wasn't_ a little bit theo's boss, he could still convince amethar to let him use theo). theo hates that and also just generally doesn't like calroy for a variety of reasons that can be boiled down to "cal has bad vibes" and "theo is just a little bit in love with his king and a lot repressed about it". also lady whipperly is a real npc from the first episode but she doesn't have a canon first name and i made her a lesbian just for fun, ruthie nougallo is named after a baby ruth bar and i've decided she's my new cocsona
> 
> \- this section is small because every time i tried to write it, it kept becoming this Huge Thing That Would Take Like 5k Words bc there's a whole BACKSTORY for the crullers and why cal is still the marquis of muffinfield without marrying donetta. BASICALLY donetta ran away to be gay in the woods, the crullers are fond of calroy, calroy poisons lord cruller to death and then helps lady cruller in her Time Of Need to much that she names him heir. baby's first social climb <3
> 
> \- it was really fun for me to write _why the FUCK won't this man who i profess to hate sleep with me? why does he want to be soft? i'm going to call the feeling in my gut rage and ignore the fact that i had the best sleep of my life pillowed against his chest_ calroy. i simply love a man who doesn't know he's in love. also, i developed a whole Secret Code Words system for cal and ciabatta and included Literally one term (stone instead of amethar, bc, yknow, rocks) :iamlookingaway:
> 
> in general, thank you so so much for reading, i truly hope you liked it! comments, kudos, and bookmarks give me more reason to think So Much abt this cake man, so they are much appreciated!
> 
> [Main Tumblr (pldubrahs)](http://www.pldubrahs.tumblr.com) | [Writing Tumblr (nacreousglowclouds)](http://nacreousglowclouds.tumblr.com/) | [Twitter (@squidias)](http://twitter.com/squidias)


End file.
